We Are Trampled Underfoot
by blackdoggy1
Summary: Angel/Wesley SLASH! One shot taking place right after Shells. Wesley is grieving and Angel has regrets but a small sliver of hope. Angsty.


**A/N: Title is a line from the U2 song "So Cruel"**

"What are you doing?" Angel demanded, casting a suspicious look over at the thing that looked like Fred but was not.

"Drinking," Wesley answered matter-of-factly, downing another glass of scotch.

"I mean with that _thing_," Angel motioned in frustration towards Illyria as he plopped down into the chair opposite Wes.

"What would you have me do? Throw her out? Have her wandering the streets at will?" Wesley asked. "That would be a disaster."

Angel grunted. Point taken. They could hardly have Illyria roaming around of her own accord. Even without an army she was lethal. She was more powerful than anything they'd seen before and she had no regard for the value of human life. Setting her loose on the general population was out of the question, and truthfully there was no way to keep her captive even in Wolfram and Hart. She was just too powerful to be forcibly detained by any means they could muster.

The only measure of control they had over her was her fascination with Wesley and the thin thread of connection that still tied what was left of Fred to him. That bond was apparently even stronger than Angel had imagined because she hadn't left Wes' side since the day Fred died.

It was starting to make Angel jealous as hell. And angry – angry at Wesley for never telling him about 'this thing with Fred', angry at Wesley for having 'this thing with Fred' at all and even, God help him, angry at Fred for trying to claim what had always been his.

Wesley was _his_ – had been since the day he'd arrived in Los Angeles, maybe before. He was Angel's watcher and Angel's best friend and Angel's –

"Are you angry with me?" Wesley cocked his head and studied the vampire steadily.

"No," he lied. Wes was suffering enough and dammit, the whole thing was Angel's fault in the first place. He never should have brought Wesley to Wolfram and Hart. He knew the man's sanity was already fragile at best and instead of taking him somewhere safe to get well he'd dragged him into the heart of darkness. Strange how he'd thought this would be the safest place for Wesley. The watcher would laugh at him if he knew part of Angel's reason for coming here was to protect _him._

But he'd wanted so badly to _fix_ it, to go back to the way things had been before Angel had betrayed him. Wesley's only crime had been loving Angel and his son too much and trying to save them both. For that Angel had tried to murder him. Wes was never the same after that day, even after Angel had made the deal that erased his memories. Between Connor and Lilah, and Cordelia and Jasmine his mind was already half way shattered and a mild case of amnesia wouldn't mend his fractured psyche.

Now this. This blue thing that looked and sounded like Fred was shadowing Wesley's every move. Angel himself could barely stand the sight of her. Fred had been good and gentle and even when Angel found out that she was trying to take Wesley from him, he'd still loved her. He couldn't help it. If she had just died and been buried it would have been easier. This confused mangle of grief and anger and regret and jealousy would settle and eventually fade into a dull ache. Instead she kept walking and talking and not being Fred. There was no closure, no ending to it. It was enough to boggle even the most sane, stable mind and lately Wes fell way under that mark.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Angel said gently. He watched Illyria peering at the oddities in the large curio near the door but he knew she was listening. He didn't care. Wesley didn't belong to her _or _Fred. He would always be Angel's.

"I agree," Wesley glared at him. "Let's pack our bags and leave. Let's go back to the hotel or to…or to Caritas…….or to fucking Timbuktu for god sakes."

"It's too late for that Wes," Angel sighed. "I don't think we can go back."

As he looked in Wesley's eyes he knew the man already understood that. It's probably why he was going slowly and steadily insane. Madness was a nicer place than Wolfram and Hart. But Angel needed him _here_.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Wesley said softly and finally broke his gaze, staring out the window as he moved to take another sip of his drink.

Angel reached out and grabbed the glass before it made it to his lips. Wesley allowed him to take the glass from his hand and set it on the table. Then he replied, "It's alright."

"Is it?" the watcher sounded half amused, half bewildered. "It feels as though I cheated. Did I cheat on you, Angel?"

"No," the vampire choked out. He wouldn't do this. He wouldn't lay any more misplaced blame at Wesley's feet.

"You know what's strange," Wesley leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. His words were beginning to slur now and Angel could tell he was way past drunk and beginning to drift off to sleep. "I can't remember breaking up with you. I try and it's on the edges somewhere….like I can just glimpse it out of the corner of my eye….and then it's gone again. And the harder I focus, the further away it slips."

Angel gritted his teeth and said nothing. How could he explain something he didn't understand himself? He knew _when_ it happened. He just didn't know why….couldn't even conceive of what had possessed him to turn so swiftly and ruthlessly on the one person that loved him and his child most of all.

Wesley mumbled on, his voice growing softer as he slipped toward unconsciousness, "I only remember that we were once together and then we weren't."

Angel reached out and grabbed his hand. He could see Illyria watching from her corner of the room. He didn't care. "Just get some rest, Wesley. You're sick."

"Mmm," Wesley agreed sleepily. "It's this place. Plays tricks on the mind. Makes it hard to think."

Angel simply sat there holding his hand as he drifted away, his breathing beginning to even out. He hoped Wes could find some peace at least in his dreams. God knows he never got any when he was awake. Not anymore.

"Angel?" Wesley muttered, startling the vampire a bit. He'd thought the watcher was already sleeping.

"I'm right here," Angel assured him tenderly.

"I loved her."

"I know," Angel agreed even though it was like a kick in his gut to admit it.

"But I loved you too. Do you think it's possible to love two people at once?"

"I – I" Angel stammered and if his heart actually beat it would be pounding right now. Wesley still cared for him, even though his mind was battered, even though Angel had dragged him into this hellhole and damned them both. "I think so."

"Then I did."

After a few moments of silence it was clear Wesley had drifted off into a drunken slumber. Angel got up quietly and fetched a blanket from the bed then covered his watcher carefully. He slipped from the room and headed toward the door of the apartment patently ignoring the Not Fred.

Illyria, however, had other ideas. She grabbed him firmly forcing him to turn and face her.

"What do you want?" he hissed, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Wesley.

"To understand," she said cocking her head and staring up at him with those damned unrelentingly blue eyes.

"Understand what?"

"Why you say everything to him except what you mean."

"What?" Angel frowned.

She stared at him for a moment and he began to wonder if she ever blinked. Probably not. Freak. "You mean to tell him you're sorry but you never do."

Angel took a step back. How could she know-? Fred. A small part of her was still Fred - at least a part of her memories. And if it was that part asking the question well that raised all kinds of uncomfortable ideas about just _which_ fragments were still lingering in Illyria's brain. As far as he knew Fred's memory of what happened with Connor had also been erased, but what if somewhere deep down in those synaptic connections the fragments were still floating around? What if Illyria had the ability to put those pieces back together? And what if she told? That would be the final, devastating blow that would finish Wes off.

"Sorry for what?" Angel said, bracing for the worst.

"You brought him here to save him and this place destroyed him instead," she said matter-of-factly.

Angel didn't know whether to be relieved that she was talking about something other than what happened with Holt, or to be appalled that she could so easily see through him.

"How do you know that?" he whispered angrily.

Cocking her head, Illyria said in a cold, dead tone, "Because she wanted to save him as well."

Angel's eyes grew wide as a sudden realization struck him, "Is that why you're still here? Are you……are you trying to save him now?"

"Yes."

Once again Angel was torn. Should he get jealous all over again or just be relieved someone else was on the Save Wesley team. At this point it was a losing battle and he could use all the help he could get. He pondered it for a moment and took a deep breath.

Finally he said, "Then we can work on that together."

Illyria nodded once and Angel pushed past her out the door. As he headed back downstairs he decided that maybe the Not Fred could be useful after all. Even if she did somehow decipher what had happened with Holt she wouldn't tell. There was enough Fred left in her to ensure that.

Wesley had said he'd loved two people and whether he knew it or not two people loved him in return. They could still save him. Angel was sure of it.


End file.
